


Roleplay

by horselizard



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Cowboy Hats, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Power Play, mlm author, there was already an AO3 tag for cowboy hats so i couldn't not use it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 05:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horselizard/pseuds/horselizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the AR suite, Lister and Rimmer find creative uses for Brett Riverboat and Dangerous Dan McGrew's special skills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roleplay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saylee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saylee/gifts).



> Written for the Starbuggers Red Dwarf Kink Meme. Original prompt: "Rimmer/Lister as Brett Riverboat and Dangerous Dan McGrew. Anything from just wearing the costumes to roleplay to actually believing they are the characters, just give me some cowboy porn."

They were sleeping together, these days, but other than that the dynamic between them was much as it always had been: the same barbed banter, the same pranks and scheming, the same vying for dominance. And although they were the _last_ people who needed a spark put back into their relationship, they would still make use of the AR machine to indulge in new and exciting ways of locking horns.

They faced each other across the deserted bar, Dangerous Dan's wide-brimmed hat tipped low over Rimmer's eyes, but not low enough to conceal their dark, predatory glint as they locked unwaveringly onto Lister's. The knifeman slowly stepped closer, not dropping his own menacing, lustful gaze, but this time Rimmer knew he would have the upper hand. He could already taste it, the intoxicating thrill of having his opponent bent over and at his mercy, struggling beneath him, the ever-shifting balance of power working in his favour for once.

He strode forward with cool confidence, eyes on Lister's but mind on his peripheral vision. Dan's legendary bare-knuckle instincts told him exactly where he needed to strike to have that sexy bastard effortlessly spun round and pinned down. And then, without warning, he lunged, lightning fast, long fingers snaking out to catch Lister's wrists and use his own weight against him.

“Skills cheat,” Lister said simply, dodging with the easy reflexes of a one-time bar brawler, as Rimmer mis-stepped, missed his mark, and pivoted hopelessly under his own misdirected weight. He yanked on the erstwhile fist-fighter's shoulder to help him on his way, and Rimmer crashed in an inelegant heap across the table behind him, his stetson falling crookedly over his face.

Dazed and disbelieving, Rimmer barely had time to realise what had happened before Lister was on him, strong hands pinioning him as he lay spreadeagled. His hat was pulled away from his eyes and jammed forcefully back onto his head, revealing a grinning, mischievous face much too close to his own.

“You utter bastard,” he exclaimed, a familiar sinking feeling hitting his gut, and making its effect known with delicious rapidity further south.

“Oh dear, Rimsy,” Lister tutted innocently, “looks like you need to work a bit harder on your tactics.”

“This is _supposed_ to be roleplay,” Rimmer grumbled. “But if you can't handle the extra frisson added by my special skills, fine. I'll just take yours away too, since you've so handily supplied me with the cheat code.”

With a sly smile, Lister drew one of his knives from its holster, and held it up, the long blade gleaming. “Oh, I _really_ don't think you want to do that, Rimmer,” he smirked. “Not with what I've got planned for you.”

The blade flashed, and Rimmer froze in terror as he felt the tip of it brush against his skin, close enough to graze him with friction but not close enough to cut. Lister drew the knife in a sweeping arc up one arm, across his chest, and down to his other wrist, then gave his lapels a tug. His tan leather duster fell from his shoulders, the sleeves neatly bisected, leaving him in just his slashed shirt and waistcoat.

Lister chuckled at Rimmer's horrified expression as he pressed the blade delicately to his neck, readying it to catch on his shirt collar, a few well-chosen strokes away from reducing his cowboy gear to ribbons. Rimmer swallowed his pride and accepted his fate, cheeks flushing and arousal growing as he waited to be stripped naked. He hoped, at the least, that Lister would let him keep his hat on.


End file.
